Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I Wonder...


Considering what we know is so little and what we don’t know so much, one would think the latter to be that much more powerful. Yet usually it is the other way round.

I remember Grandma telling me once that reincarnation exists, that we start with the smallest, the most apparently insignificant of organisms, and ultimately earn the honour, the prize of being reincarnated as a human. Come to think of it, isn’t it amazingly close to the concept of Evolution? Moving on from single-celled organisms to Human Beings? Of course each theory has its own set of assumptions, fallacies and merits which I cannot even begin to analyze, let alone dispute, due to my lack of knowledge thereof. Yet, I cannot help but notice the central idea being common to both. Entirely opposing ideas, yet so close in their essence, fascinating.

During a discussion with a friend, I remember asking, “Ohkay, maybe Mahabharata did really happen, but, hundred Kauravas born from earthen pots, really? Or people on flying chariots? Arrows that burst in flames, or lightning as a weapon, how can one explain any of this?” The reply I got has kind of stuck on, it never fails to amaze me. “These are literary interpretations, that got distorted or exaggerated due to a multitude of reasons over many, many years; but think about it: What if technology at that time had advanced to stages where the Kauravas were born as test tube babies? What if the earthen pots were indeed the “test tubes” of that time? What if, some sort of airplanes had been invented then that were seen as flying chariots? What if they had made weapons using explosives that appeared as arrows that spit fire and what if they had made weapons that harnessed electricity to attack? Technology doesn’t only need to be invented but also sustained, maybe for various social, natural or economic reasons these could not be sustained or spread out.”

When I was in the fourth standard, we were being taught about our Solar System. A statement was made: “Life on Earth exists as it is the only planet in our Solar System with optimal conditions for life.” I stood up and asked what the word optimal meant, I had guessed it from the context, yet I needed to confirm before I could ask the question that had struck me instantly. On being satisfied that my guess was correct I asked, “What if there are aliens that do not need the same things as us to survive? What if they need something else in place of oxygen or water? What if they need the extreme cold or extreme hot temperatures? Life outside the Earth need not be the same as on Earth. So why look for water or oxygen to confirm life outside? Maybe they really don’t need that, maybe even if they exist we cannot see them, they might be made of something that is invisible to us.” Some of my friends started giggling, and my class teacher smiled and said, “Priyanka, you really need to watch less of Cartoon Network.” And the discussion ended. Well, maybe all that I had said did really stem from excess of cartoons and storybooks, and maybe it doesn’t really make much sense; but till now, the confusion stays on. Why do we equate everything else to what we know? Why do facts have to fall within our domain to be rendered credible? Why would an alien have to need oxygen, or water or a temperature acceptable to us?

All this is speculation, but what is to say that it holds no truth? If certain stories, myths or yet-to-be-accepted-ideas have stood the test of time, surely they deserve some faith. Faith, as opposed to superstition or cynicism. Wouldn’t life be so much simpler if we realized that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence? If we could accept that there are things we don’t know or don’t understand. If we look at new ideas with wonder than with resistance? One doesn’t need to just accept whatever one is told, that’d be downright stupid, but being stubborn about your opinion no matter what isn’t much better either.
Of course I have my own set of beliefs, opinions and ideas. But so does my neighbour and their neighbour and so on. Who am I to decide they are wrong? Similarly, who are they to decide that either?



The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.  

– Albert Einstein



P.S.: There is so much more I could write about this, but some other time, for now, I must get back to “Reality”. Till then, some food for thought: We usually judge people as smart on the basis of what they know, yet geniuses have an indisputable track record of being those who went about looking for what they didn’t know. So long!


Friday, August 26, 2011

The Green Bookshelf And The Gulmohar Tree





Holding papa’s hand as tightly as I could, I entered the gates and instantly fell in love with the huge gulmohar tree in the garden, the basketball courts, the creamy sunlight washed walls and the pristine church that stood tall and beautiful.  Then I saw all the children, lined up for assembly. Was I late? Papa told me to go stand in the line and I thought my feet were stuck to the ground they shivered on. He nudged me gently to go ahead. I looked at all the other kids, laughing, fighting, talking or just standing, would they like me? What if I made no friends? I looked back at papa, trying very hard not to let the tears spill that blurred everything. He smiled and said, “You’re a big girl, aren’t you? Do you wan’t to be late on your first day?” I looked down at my shiny black ballerina shoes and shook my head the tiniest bit and trudged along to where everyone stood. Then, halfway through I realized, I didn’t know which line to stand in! I turned to see whether papa was still standing there, and the relief that washed over me was too much to handle. I burst out crying, as loudly as I could. At once papa was there to hold me and comfort me as I tried to control my sobs and not drench his shirt. He held my hand, asked a girl where I was supposed to stand, she led us there and papa hunched on his knees and asked me if I would be fine and not cry? As much as I wanted to howl my lungs out, I agreed and gave him a watery smile. He kissed me and went back to stand near the small gate, as I learnt to call it later on, and waited as the assembly began.


We said prayers that I had never heard of and sang hymns which everyone knew except for me. Throughout the service I kept opening my eyes to check if papa was still standing there and much to my relief he was. Finally the service ended, for the first time I learned how to cross, and soon we began filing out for class. As I entered the building which looked so calm yet vibrant I saw papa, he smiled, waved at me and left, I held back the silly tears that just wouldn’t stay in and entered my classroom. Class II Section I. The classroom was a different world in itself, softboards with colourful charts and posters, cute wall hangings and flowers on the teacher’s desk, tiny little wooden tables and matching chairs arranged in random clusters for the students. I chose the one at the furthest corner, near the teacher’s desk and the near a green bookshelf. Story books? In a classroom?  Soon the class teacher entered, she introduced herself as Mrs. Fernandez, and then introduced me to the rest of the class. I fidgeted a little at all the sudden attention and then quietly sat in my place.  Another girl entered with her mom, she was a little late. She had no place to sit, I offered her to share my desk and I made my first friend in Loreto House.  After that, the day just flew by. At two O’ clock when papa came, I ran to him and hugged him and told him how wonderful my teacher was, how many friends I’d made, how I’d found a book about a ballerina in the bookshelf in my class and how I wanted to be one too when I grew up.

It was that green bookshelf that introduced me to the wonders of reading, the classes in the small hall that made me realize that I could dance, the piano that accompanied my most disastrous attempts at singing, the stage in the big hall that made me want to be on it, my little desk where I learnt how to unpack my world for the day, the canteen where we yelled for that one plate of chow, the basketball courts which witnessed everything from my futile attempts at basketball to my beloved dance practice, from lock and key to the dreaded Day 4 marching sessions, the corridors where we’d stand and talk about crushes and homework, or where we’d sit in groups and make charts, projects or masterpieces in art and craft, the zero periods and the celebrations, the house meetings and the zillion events, the teachers who taught me almost everything I know today and who gave us the best ever Children’s day celebrations. Loreto House went from being the scary new school to my entire world. Although I’ve moved on and miss it like crazy, it was the place with which I fell in love with as soon as I laid my eyes on that gorgeous Gulmohar tree in the garden, and it is the place which will always be home.